#grumkins

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Jon III

The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick.

“Makes you wonder what lies beyond.

“Why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side?”

He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. “You do want to know what’s on the other side, don’t you?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jon said.

He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted.

“The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”

“And the grumkins and snarks,” Tyrion said. “Let us not forget them, Lord Snow, or else what’s that big thing for?”

[silverflameataraxia]

Arya never hates Sansa or any other traditionally feminine woman for being able to sing, dance, sew, and mind their courtesies. She hates herself for not being able to do those things. She thinks her family would love her more, or that Catelyn would have been more willing to ransom her, if she was more feminine and could do those things.

On the other hand, you have Sansa who wishes that Arya was a bastard and that she could have another - more feminine - sister.

Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Marcella? She would have liked a sister like that.

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their Lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered. Once, when she was littler, Sansa had even asked Mother if perhaps there hadn't been some mistake. Perhaps the grumkins had stolen her real sister.

- Sansa I, AGoT

Sansa is ashamed of Arya for being a tomboy instead of being more feminine.

They don't know me, Arya realized. They don't even know I'm a girl. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown rough-spun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don't wear skirts and silks when you're catching cats. Quickly she lowered her head and dropped to one knee. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her. If they did, she would never hear the end of it. Septa Mordane would be mortified, and Sansa would never speak to her again from the shame.

- Arya III, AGoT

Sansa attacks Arya for not being good at something traditionally feminine.

Sansa threw her head back in disdain. "You?" You couldn't sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties."

- Sansa III, AGoT

Sansa thinks that Arya was unsatisfactory as a sister because she wasn't feminine.

Sister. Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world's graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went.

- Sansa II, ASoS

Now where does Sansa get her sexism from? Catelyn (and Septa Mordane).

Arya wonders if her family would even want to ransom her because she's not traditionally feminine.

"What if my brother doesn't want to ransom me?"

"Why would you think that?" asked Lord Beric.

"Well," Arya said, "my hair's messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard." Robb wouldn't care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies.

- Arya VII, ASoS

Catelyn telling Arya she could be pretty...if only she were more feminine.

Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. 

- The Blind Girl, ADwD

[agentrouka-blog]

I was wondering if Bran ever think of Sansa? And how much? Because I mostly see people talking about Arya when they discuss Sansa and her siblings.

Actually, he's the sibling with the most compassionate and softest thoughts about her, safe Jon. :)

He doesn't think about her a ton, because he's an unruly little boy whose society encourages this kind of thinking:

Bran had been left behind with Jon and the girls and Rickon. But Rickon was only a baby and the girls were only girls and Jon and his wolf were nowhere to be found.  (AGOT, Bran II)

But when he does, he demonstrates an ability to understand her and feel compassion far beyond what Robb is capable of:

When the raven came, bearing a letter marked with Father's own seal and written in Sansa's hand, the cruel truth seemed no less incredible. Bran would never forget the look on Robb's face as he stared at their sister's words. "She says Father conspired at treason with the king's brothers," he read. "King Robert is dead, and Mother and I are summoned to the Red Keep to swear fealty to Joffrey. She says we must be loyal, and when she marries Joffrey she will plead with him to spare our lord father's life." His fingers closed into a fist, crushing Sansa's letter between them. "And she says nothing of Arya, nothing, not so much as a word. Damn her! What's wrong with the girl?" Bran felt all cold inside. "She lost her wolf," he said, weakly, remembering the day when four of his father's guardsmen had returned from the south with Lady's bones. Summer and Grey Wind and Shaggydog had begun to howl before they crossed the drawbridge, in voices drawn and desolate. Beneath the shadow of the First Keep was an ancient lichyard, its headstones spotted with pale lichen, where the old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants. It was there they buried Lady, while her brothers stalked between the graves like restless shadows. She had gone south, and only her bones had returned. (AGOT, Bran IV)

He wants to save her and Arya.

"Bran, child, why do you torment yourself so? One day you may do some of these things, but now you are only a boy of eight." "I'd sooner be a wolf. Then I could live in the wood and sleep when I wanted, and I could find Arya and Sansa. I'd smell where they were and go save them, and when Robb went to battle I'd fight beside him like Grey Wind. I'd tear out the Kingslayer's throat with my teeth, rip, and then the war would be over and everyone would come back to Winterfell. If I was a wolf . . ." He howled. "Ooo-ooo-oooooooooooo." (ACOK, Bran I)

Inside Summer he thinks of Sansa and Lady:

These woods belonged to them, the snowy slopes and stony hills, the great green pines and the golden leaf oaks, the rushing streams and blue lakes fringed with fingers of white frost. But his sister had left the wilds, to walk in the halls of man-rock where other hunters ruled, and once within those halls it was hard to find the path back out. The wolf prince remembered. (ASOS, Bran I)

He has memories of being comforted by her that come back to him in a moment of fear.

The footfalls sounded heavy to Bran, slow, ponderous, scraping against the stone. It must be huge. Mad Axe had been a big man in Old Nan's story, and the thing that came in the night had been monstrous. Back in Winterfell, Sansa��had told him that the demons of the dark couldn't touch him if he hid beneath his blanket. He almost did that now, before he remembered that he was a prince, and almost a man grown. (ASOS, Bran IV)

He firms counts her as a magical member of House Stark.

Old Nan had told him the same story once, Bran remembered, but when he asked Robb if it was true, his brother laughed and asked him if he believed in grumkins too. He wished Robb were with them now. I'd tell him I could fly, but he wouldn't believe, so I'd have to show him. I bet that he could learn to fly too, him and Arya and Sansa, even baby Rickon and Jon Snow. We could all be ravens and live in Maester Luwin's rookery. (ADWD, Bran III)

Bran is clearly trying to define himself as a Man Grown in opposition to "the girls" and the kinds of feminine-coded subjects Sans cares for, in the same wa Arya rejects them as "stupid" because she stuggles with the confines of the role she was supposed to occupy. Neither of them is right to do so, but it helps to understand why they do it.

Bran did not understand, so he asked the Reeds. "Do you like to read books, Bran?" Jojen asked him. "Some books. I like the fighting stories. My sister Sansa likes the kissing stories, but those are stupid." (ADWD, Bran III)

The relationship of "the girls" (as Bran keeps referring to them) is obviously more prominent because they shared more of their time and space every day (and are meant to illusttrate through their conflict how no woman wins in patriarchy, they are all equally oppressed) while the education of the boys required more time outside and away. But there is a clear indication that Bran cares for Sansa and understands her and she was a gentle older sister to him.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I can’t help but feel that Jon specifically being the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch is perhaps the most important role he can have. The average Westerosi really doesn’t care much about a prophesied prince or king. They’re not too fussed about magic swords meant to kill snarks and grumkins. What they do know is that when the Others come knocking, it’s the Night’s Watch that stands between them and death. The Watch may have fallen on harsh times and may lack the prestige it once had, but it has a very real history of being the one line of defense in Westeros. It’s even accredited in songs as being the cause of victory in the first Long Night. And where legends fall out of fashion and eventually become forgotten, the Watch has been an ever present and tangible figure in Westeros for thousands and thousands of years. So what happens when winter really comes? Westeros won’t look for a prophetic savior. The first thing they’ll look to is the Watch. And who leads the Watch at the moment? Jon. And by extension, who will be the one people look to for survival and leadership? It’s Jon. Jojen said it best: at night, all cloaks are black. In the upcoming war, all of humanity becomes a part of the nights watch. And Jon becomes humanity’s natural leader. If we ever see another great council, I imagine that Jon will be offered the crown primarily because of his position as the LC and his actions leading the war effort. His parentage will merely be an added bonus; assuming it’s even considered in the first place.

[ilustrandocanciondehieloyfuego]

21_Juego de tronos_Tyrion III

 Allí los árboles crecían inmensos, y no era de extrañar que la Guardia de la Noche llamara a aquella espesura el Bosque Encantado.

  Allí de pie, observando aquella oscuridad en la que no ardía hoguera alguna, a merced del viento y sintiendo el frío como una lanza en las entrañas, Tyrion Lannister pensó que casi podía creer los rumores sobre los Otros, el enemigo en la noche. Sus bromas sobre grumkins y snarks ya no le parecían tan divertidas.

  —Mi tío está ahí afuera —dijo Jon Nieve en voz baja; se apoyó en la lanza y escudriñó la oscuridad—. La primera noche que me enviaron aquí, pensé: «Ahora vendrá el tío Benjen, seré el primero en verlo y haré sonar el cuerno». Pero no vino. Ni esa noche ni ninguna otra.

  —Dale tiempo —dijo Tyrion.

  Mucho más al norte un lobo empezó a aullar. Otro se unió a su llamada, y otro más. Fantasma inclinó la cabeza y escuchó. El muchacho le puso la mano encima.

  —Si no vuelve, Fantasma y yo iremos a buscarlo —prometió Jon.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Jon of House Snark™️

"It's no freak," Jon said calmly. "That's a direwolf. They grow larger than the other kind." Theon Greyjoy said, "There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years."

"I see one now," Jon replied. (Bran I, AGoT)

--

"This is no toy," he told her. "Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with." "Girls don't shave," Arya said. "Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?" (Jon II, AGoT)

Tyrion sagged back to the ground with a grunt. "Don't help me, then. I'll sit right here until you leave." Jon Snow stroked Ghost's thick white fur, smiling now. "Ask me nicely."

...

"Why did he attack me?" Tyrion asked with a sidelong glance at the direwolf. He wiped blood and dirt from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Maybe he thought you were a grumkin." (Tyrion II, AGoT)

--

"You broke my wrist, bastard boy." Jon lifted his eyes at the sullen voice. Grenn loomed over him, thick of neck and red of face, with three of his friends behind him. He knew Todder, a short ugly boy with an unpleasant voice. The recruits all called him Toad. The other two were the ones Yoren had brought north with them, Jon remembered, rapers taken down in the Fingers. He'd forgotten their names. He hardly ever spoke to them, if he could help it. They were brutes and bullies, without a thimble of honor between them. Jon stood up. "I'll break the other one for you if you ask nicely."

...

"You make us look bad," complained Toad.

"You looked bad before I ever met you," Jon told him.

...

Alliser Thorne overheard him. "Lord Snow wants to take my place now." He sneered. "I'd have an easier time teaching a wolf to juggle than you will training this aurochs." "I'll take that wager, Ser Alliser," Jon said. "I'd love to see Ghost juggle." (Jon III, AGoT)

--

Slynt slammed a fist on the table. "I heard you! Ser Alliser had your measure true enough, it seems. You lie through your bastard's teeth. Well, I will not suffer it. I will not! You might have fooled this crippled blacksmith, but not Janos Slynt! Oh, no. Janos Slynt does not swallow lies so easily. Did you think my skull was stuffed with cabbage?" "I don't know what your skull is stuffed with. My lord." (Jon IX, ASoS)

--

Thorne was much the more clever of the two, Jon realized; this had his stink all over it. He was trapped. "I'll go," he said in a clipped, curt voice. "M'lord," Janos Slynt reminded him. "You'll address me—" "I'll go, my lord. But you are making a mistake, my lord. You are sending the wrong man, my lord. Just the sight of me is going to anger Mance. My lord would have a better chance of reaching terms if he sent—" (Jon X, ASoS)

--

"Words. Words are wind. Why do you think I abandoned Dragonstone and sailed to the Wall, Lord Snow?" "I am no lord, sire. You came because we sent for you, I hope. Though I could not say why you took so long about it."

Surprisingly, Stannis smiled at that. (Jon XI, ASoS)

--

"What are you doing here, bastard?" Thorne asked. "Bathing. But don't let me spoil your plotting." Jon climbed from the water, dried, dressed, and left them to conspire. (Jon XII, ASoS)

--

"Close the door, Sam." Faint scars still marked Jon's cheek, where an eagle had once tried to rip his eye out. "Did that wretch break the skin?" Sam eased the books down and peeled off his glove. "He did." He felt faint. "I'm bleeding." "We all shed our blood for the Watch. Wear thicker gloves." Jon shoved a chair toward him with a foot. (Samwell I, AFfC)

--

The red woman walked beside Jon down the steps. "His Grace is growing fond of you."

"I can tell. He only threatened to behead me twice." (Jon I, ADwD)

--

This is wrong, Jon thought. "Stop."

Emmett turned back, frowning. "My lord?"

"I will not hang him," said Jon. "Bring him here."

"Oh, Seven save us," he heard Bowen Marsh cry out.

The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Jon said, "Edd, fetch me a block," and unsheathed Longclaw. (Jon II, ADwD)

Alys Karstark leaned close to Jon. "Snow during a wedding means a cold marriage. My lady mother always said so." He glanced at Queen Selyse. There must have been a blizzard the day she and Stannis wed.

--

"I have slain a giant, boy. Why should I fear some flea-ridden northman who paints one on his shield?"

"The giant was running away. Mors won't be." (Jon IV, ADwD)

--

...

"I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow."

"Bastard."

"Guilty. Of that, at least." (Jon X, ADwD)

--

"You say these boys will serve as squires. Surely the lord commander does not mean they will be trained at arms?" Jon's anger flared. "No, my lord, I mean to set them to sewing lacy smallclothes." (Jon XI, ADwD)

--

All your questions shall be answered. Look to the skies, Lord Snow. And when you have your answers, send to me. Winter is almost upon us now. I am your only hope." "A fool's hope." Jon turned and left her.

...

"Dark wings, dark words," muttered Tormund. "Isn't that what you kneelers say?" "We say, Bleed a cold but feast a fever too," Jon told him. "We say, Never drink with Dornishmen when the moon is full. We say a lot of things." (Jon XIII, ADwD)

[stromuprisahat]

“The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.” “And the grumkins and the snarks,” Tyrion said. “Let us not forget them, Lord Snow, or else what’s that big thing for?” “Don’t call me Lord Snow.” The dwarf lifted an eyebrow. “Would you rather be called the Imp? Let them see that their words can cut you, and you’ll never be free of the mockery. If they want to give you a name, take it, make it your own. Then they can’t hurt you with it anymore.”

A Game of Thrones- Chapter 19 (George R. R. Martin)

Grishaverse thought:

I wonder how long had been the Darkling called that way before he figured out the same as Tyrion here.

“I want you to know my name,” he said. “The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?”

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 9

He calls it "the title", that sounds as something official, already existing. And that he took it for himself? That doesn't mean he was the one to come up with it, it's only about the ownership.

While I don't deny he's a hormonal thirteen y/o in some aspects, "the Darkling" is pretty lame name without the reputation backing it up. Fucking bug... LOL

[pixiecactus]

I have a feeling that Sansa’s Alayna arc is going to make her a kinder and more well rounded open minded person (in some ways, not in a other ways 👀🍷) tbh she’s living undercover as a bastard albeit a wealthy “proper” one and I think experiencing some of the ways they are treated differently in society hopefully might make her reflect on how she’s treated Jon and Arya (who, while not a bastard obviously, doesn’t fit the society’s mold). I feel so caught in the middle between “they hate each other and will want each other dead” and “they will have a perfect reunion and never argue or disagree again” like GRRM isn’t the king of nuance lol

i think so too and that's what i want for her, to grow as a person. leave some of her very problematic mindset behind as she matures.

what is so infuriating for me is that sansa is not an evil character, she's very far from it, sansa is just very painfully (for me to read) ignorant of how her behavior can hurt others.

"You're horrible," she screamed at her sister. "They should have killed you instead of Lady!"

like this quote of hers, it just makes me think about how much of an obnoxious child she is, the brattiest of them all, and makes me wonder who the fuck raised her and why aren't your parents paying attention to you so they can correct your behavior.

and i know, i really know, that she has grown up since, but at the same time, it's so minimal that the growth is almost nonexistent.

and all of the few times that sansa remembers the fact that she used to have a little sister called arya, they are moments that lack remorse and self-reflection from her.

sansa experienced firsthand how much of a fucked-up sadist joffrey baratheon was, and we never saw her looking back at the trident incident with another perspective now that she has more information about how cersei and joffrey truly are. but she still blamed arya for lady's death. and that's so frustrating to read.

it's been a few days since i wrote the paragraphs before this sentence. sorry for the drastic change of tone, but that's partly the reason why... i got the idea that i needed to discuss some opinions with my bestie, since she is the one with a psychology degree out of the two of us.

and since she assured me that these opinions of mine weren't too radical to have, here we go:

"i think that if you are related to someone by consanguinity, there's nothing that could indicate that you have any kind of automatic predisposition to actually love and care for that individual."

and: "relationships, no matter the kind, need to be nurtured by all participants to be a loving and fulfilling one."

and that is why i wholeheartedly believe that sansa isn't interested in arya as a person and even less in having her as a sister.

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered. Once, when she was littler, Sansa had even asked Mother if perhaps there hadn't been some mistake. Perhaps the grumkins had stolen her real sister. But Mother had only laughed and said no, Arya was her daughter and Sansa's trueborn sister, blood of their blood. Sansa could not think why Mother would want to lie about it, so she supposed it had to be true.

sansa saying that it would be easier for her if arya was a bastard like jon, for me, means that if they didn't share a father and a mother, sansa simply wouldn't put up with her, in the same way that she mostly ignores jon's existence.

also i decided to highlight the part where sansa thinks that maybe arya being her sister was some kind of mistake, because "stark stans" (derogatory as always) like to make the point that before the start of agot arya and sansa had a lovely relationship, and sure, let's be fair, this could be just sansa being a curious little child with a big imagination, but from my side of things, this only feeds my opinion that sansa simply doesn't like arya... and that is perfectly okay.

they are two very different people that follow different ideals and morals, so i think one of the most normal things we see in the books is that arya and sansa don't see eye to eye... and probably they never will.

i don't have any problem with sansa disliking arya as a person (other than, if we combine this with her crush on joffrey and later on her crush on the hound... it's my own opinion that sansa girlie doesn't seem to have good taste)

going back to my thoughts about the importance of nurturing relationships, another thing that's really frustrating to read is that arya seems like she wanted to actually do this.

"It won't be so bad, Sansa," Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we'll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest." She touched her on the arm.

it doesn't matter to arya that sansa hasn't been the kindest to her; we have arya here trying her best to comfort her big sister, because arya is an empathetic person, and sansa is part of her family. arya understands this well, and this is one of the main things in which the sisters contrast.

"Hodor!" Sansa yelled. "You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" She wrenched away from her sister's hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her.

and sansa's response to this well-meaning action... well, it is what it is. sansa retorts to screaming insults at arya (which in hindsight is really funny because stansas, stark stans and bnf are always up in arms about arya thinking that sansa and her interests are "stupid", but when we have sansa on page being the one to use the word "stupid" to insult arya, they stay really quiet, you know?) and rejects arya's touch that meant to comfort her and sansa insolates herself.

and after they separated, we have arya on page, showing remorse about how things between sansa and her ended up being and wanting to see her sister again.

Arya had not known her brother was so near. Riverrun was much closer than Winterfell, though she was not certain where it lay in relation to Harrenhal. I could find out somehow, I know I could, if only I could get away. When she thought of seeing Robb's face again Arya had to bite her lip. And I want to see Jon too, and Bran and Rickon, and Mother. Even Sansa . . . I'll kiss her and beg her pardons like a proper lady, she'll like that.

and let me contrast this moment with the one in which sansa is told by cersei that arya is dead in acok.

"Not that I wanted him to stay, mind you. I had Grand Maester Pycelle and an army of midwives, and I had my brother. When they told Jaime he was not allowed in the birthing room, he smiled and asked which of them proposed to keep him out. "Joffrey will show you no such devotion, I fear. You could thank your sister for that, if she weren't dead. He's never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You're stronger than you seem, though. I expect you'll survive a bit of humiliation. I did. You may never love the king, but you'll love his children." "I love His Grace with all my heart," Sansa said.

sansa doesn't give this news a second thought, really, or even think of arya after this. for me, this is another moment that is very frustrating to read.

sansa in that moment, really said: no thoughts, head empty. (just kidding... i just wanted to do the meme... i don't actually think that sansa is dumb, because she's not; she's just really ignorant about actions and how they truly have consequences)

and actually, actions and their consequences bring me to the next part: how do people think that arya will feel when learning that sansa threw her under the bus?

The queen looked at her, troubled, and yet Sansa could see kindness in her clear green eyes. "Child," she said, "if I could truly believe that you were not like your father, why nothing should please me more than to see you wed to my Joffrey. I know he loves you with all his heart." She sighed. "And yet, I fear that Lord Varys and the Grand Maester have the right of it. The blood will tell. I have only to remember how your sister set her wolf on my son." "I'm not like Arya," Sansa blurted. "She has the traitor's blood, not me. I'm good, ask Septa Mordane, she'll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey's loyal and loving wife."

and with sansa proclaiming arya as a traitor to the crown, that's a death sentence that sansa put on her younger sister. (and yeah, we can discuss that most likely if arya wasn't able to escape and stayed in the red keep, she could be killed as an act of revenge, but this is about sansa and her canon actions, not "what if" scenarios to defend her)

how is arya (or any other of the remaining siblings) going to feel after discovering that sansa went and snitched ned's escape plans to cersei, just because she didn't get her way?

and let's put a reminder here that arya was able to escape the red keep thanks to syrio forel sacrificing himself to give her that chance.

i've already written about the "praying for all her family that sansa did" and the "sometimes sansa saw herself having a daughter that looked just like arya" and how they don't feel significant enough for me, so i will not touch them here again.

and i don't want for arya to become a "winterfell" to sansa, you know, something that sansa didn't actually liked that much or hold in high regard before going south, and then with all the shit that happened and how now there is nothing else to hold on to, sansa started to appreciate winterfell and the protection that its walls offered her in the first place, because it's not longer around her. in my opinion, it feels shitty to do that to a person.

Arya was one of the first characters created. Sansa came about as a total opposite b/c too many of the Stark family members were getting along and familes aren't like that. Thus, Sansa was created; he ended by saying they have deep issues to work out. (source)

and with this quote of the author himself, there's no doubt that the sisters will reunite and at least talk it out, and yeah, like you said, grrm is the king of nuance.

but my stance in the situation as an arya stan is that i don't trust sansa at all to be around arya, i've the feeling that it will be so easy for sansa to hurt arya again, she has not grown enough in all we currently have as canon content.

this is going to sound ridiculous, but i follow the rule of thumb that arya is a better person than i am. i've a lot of family members that remind me so much of sansa, personality-wise. hell, sometimes sansa actually reminds me of the worst parts of myself growing up (i was a classist little bitch as a child, because that is how my biological family raised me to be) and currently i've been no contact with them since my 18th birthday, and there's not a thing i regret about this. because as my worldview changed and my mindset developed as i became more educated in social issues and systematic oppression, my family stayed the same with the same old closed-mindedness they always had.

and even if i don't see becoming "no contact" as an option for arya to choose, i think that arya and sansa are way too different to peacefully coexist, so i'm all for them becoming distant in the future. and again, there's nothing wrong with that.

thank you so much for your ask!! sorry it took me a long time to reply, i'm not really in the mood to write anything in my free time, but that's purely on me.

ps: i called myself a classist little bitch, not sansa. i think that it's fair for me to call myself a bitch. sansa is a child, so i'll never be comfortable using that term with her in mind.

[sdwolfpup]

Oh festive prompt 27 puhhhhleese!!

Last one! 😊 A little post-ADWD book canon that is not exactly festive but does have snow.

(I appreciate the asks from people! The fics that I didn't post separately to AO3, I'll add to my A Job Lot of Junk collection after this.)

27. confessing a crush when it's snowing

In the end, the sun rose again. Though it had felt like it would never happen, the Long Night finally ended.

The winter hadn't, though. Jaime had hoped, when the last Other had fallen, that they would take the snow with them--but his luck had never been that good.

At least, not until Brienne of Tarth had dragged him across Westeros.

Some would say she had been the start of his bad luck, and there had been a time he would have agreed. Losing a hand would make even the most stalwart idealist falter, and he had burned away his idealism long ago.

But since she had stormed into his life with her stubborn honor and bullheaded bravery, he had never felt more grateful for being alive. He had intended to tell her so a hundred times, but there had always been distance, or something more important between them, or his own cowardice. Now that they had survived the Long Night, there were no more excuses. Plans were already being made for what came next, and he could not bear the thought of not being part of hers. He had to tell her, or risk losing her forever.

If only he could find her.

"You don't know where she is? Are you not her squire?" he demanded of the trembling stick of a boy in front of him a few days after the Long Night.

"Y-y-y-yes, s-s-s-ser."

"How do you lose a person that size, then?"

Podrick flinched, as though expecting a blow. "S-s-s-s-s-sorry, s-s-s-ser."

Jaime sighed and forced himself to calm. He had seen Brienne just last night, when he had watched her eat a meal of mostly inedible mush with Podrick and the useless Hyle Hunt. It wasn't the boy's fault she was an eternally early riser with a predilection for solitude, even after the most difficult and dangerous battle of their lives.

"Never mind," he told the boy more kindly. "I'll find her myself."

The boy was still stuttering over his thanks as Jaime walked away.

*****

"There you are!" he finally said, hours later. He'd tromped all over and through Winterfell until he'd finally decided she'd run away in the night, or been taken by grumkins. Then, on his way to the stables to procure a horse to search for her further afield to make sure she hadn't died, he'd found her exiting them. The snow had started to fall again, and Jaime felt a shiver roll through him.

"Where have you been?" he nearly shouted. "I looked everywhere for you."

Brienne came to a halt, her blue eyes going very wide and darting away, as if he'd caught her doing something she shouldn't. No one had been forbidden from leaving Winterfell, though it was foolish to go alone so soon after the Long Night.

"I... I went for a ride," she said in the soft voice he heard in his dreams.

"On your own? Without even telling your poor, worried squire?"

Her massive brow furrowed. "You spoke with Podrick?"

"I couldn't very well speak with you, could I?" he snarled.

That furrow turned into an annoyed crease.

"I am free to go where and when I please, Ser. Just as you are."

He laughed dully. "Indeed." The snow was falling harder now. "You are entirely free. Free to take rides by yourself in the countryside. Free to eat with that useless hedge knight, Hunt. You could even scamper back to Tarth tomorrow, if you wanted."

Brienne huffed, loud as a bear. "Were you only looking for for me to harangue me about my independence? If so, might we do it inside where it's warmer?"

He planted his feet and blinked away the snowflakes that were sticking to his lashes. "Here is fine. So tell me, my lady, why were you out riding with nary a word to anyone?"

There went her eyes again, escaping his gaze to stare somewhere off his left ear. "I needed the air."

Jaime gestured around them. "There is more than enough air here."

"I do not have to explain myself to you," she groused. She started to move past him and he grabbed her wrist. She spun, her other hand coming up as if to fight and he released her immediately. "What do you want?" Her voice was thin and sharp as an icicle.

"I want to know what you're hiding from me."

"Nothing." She looked almost as if she might cry, and a fissure cracked across his heart.

"Brienne," he said softly and she bit down on her thick, chapped lip. "You promised me no more lies." She flushed, her head drooping. "I want only to help you. So tell me: why did you go out on your own? Why did you tell no one?" And then, because he could not stop himself, he pleaded, "Why did you not tell me?"

Her hands wrapped around each other, her knuckles red from the cold. Snow was trapped in her thin, plaited hair and had started turning her nose an unsightly pink where it melted upon it.

He thought she might choose rather to freeze than to speak, until she said in a resigned voice, "I needed to think. And I needed to be away from you to do it."

The chasm of concern that had opened in his chest iced over in the bitter wind of her words. "I see."

"It is not what you think," she hurriedly said.

The snow swirled around them, but Jaime felt none of it, numb inside and out. "It seems very clear to me."

"You... confuse me," she explained haltingly, her hands throttling each other. "I cannot think clearly when you are near."

The ice ceased hardening, and he held himself very still. "I did not realize my mere presence was such a problem."

She exhaled sharply, a warm blast of air in the cold. "You are vexing," she said, as though scolding him. "And confounding. And I needed clarity."

"About what?" he asked, desperate to understand.

"About you." Brienne's hands waved wide and wild in the air, swirling snowflakes all around her. "About why you would search all of Winterfell looking for me and then act as if you don't care once you are here. About how we fought at each other's side through all the Long Night, and yet we barely even eat together now that it is done. About what you did for me with Lady Catelyn." Her voice had dropped, almost lost in the snow. "And how you have refused my every gratitude since."

Jaime sighed. "That was nothing to be grateful for."

"I am grateful."

"Because you are a naive fool."

She growled and took a threatening step nearer. He felt his blood pump to life, heating his veins and cracking the ice.

"A fool I may be, but I am not naive," she said with a force and conviction that made his spine jolt with pride--and his knees weak with something far less honorable. "Not any longer. Not after all I have been through." She pierced him with her astonishing blue eyes. "Not after all we have been through."

His usually reliable tongue failed him, and Jaime could only draw a pitiful excuse for a smirk upon his face.

Brienne frowned. "You have had my honest answer, ser, now give me yours: why were you so determined to find me? What do you want?"

The snow blew about them, white and cold and a distant reminder of the dark freeze that had so recently gripped the world. But for Jaime, it was spring in Brienne's eyes, in the familiar, frustrated concern in her face. In the way his heart was blooming in his chest, shaking off the lingering frost.

"What do I want?" he repeated, a slow, simmering smile growing on his face. Brienne only looked more wary--and he found it endearing. "I should think that was obvious. I want you, Brienne."

"For what?"

He chuckled fondly. "For whatever you wish of me. I find myself at odds and ends when you are not there to drag me about."

She glowered at him. "I do not drag you."

"Not any longer," he allowed. Then, with all the seriousness of intention he could muster, he said, "Now, I follow you willingly. I want to follow you for as many days as you will allow me, Brienne. Wherever you may go."

He knew it was not the snow that made her cheeks swirl suddenly pink. The color reminded him of the first sunrise after the Long Night--and he was as grateful for and overwhelmed by it.

"I would rather you walked beside me," she said in hushed tones, her eyes searching his own.

He hoped she could see the truth in them when he replied, "That is a place I fought demons off to be."

"Do you not see that I fought for that place by you as well?" she asked without reprimand.

He inhaled sharply, her words filling his very lungs. She had found him as often as he had her during the battles. She had found him from the beginning, the lost and lonely man that everyone else had overlooked. "Perhaps I am the fool," he said in a choked voice.

He held out his hand and she took it. He felt her trembling as they walked hand-in-hand across the courtyard. The snow slowed to a caressing drift, and the sun fought valiantly through the flat white of the sky to peek through in the distance. Perhaps later there would be warmth and the first breath of spring.

It was a marvelous day to be alive, and walking beside Brienne.

[thelandswemadeofpaper]

Making the Stark siblings with dark hair instead of their original Tully's look is bad for two main reasons:

Catelyn's fear and bitterness of Jon

Jon and Arya are the only ones with the 'Stark look', the dark hair and long face, Catelyn's firstborn and secondborn begin so much like her while her husband's bastard looks like Ned could bring issues about her children's legitimacy.

A reminder that Cersei's children looking like her while Robert's bastards were all Baratheons in appearance is their main proof of her infidelity.

Arya relationship and parallels with Jon

Arya is the 'half-sibling' Jon is closest to, they are the only ones with the 'Stark look', the long face and dark hair.

They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did. They were the only ones….When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her. (AGOT, Arya I)

..........................................................................................

It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon’s mother had been common, or so people whispered. Once, when she was littler, Sansa had even asked Mother if perhaps there hadn’t been some mistake. Perhaps the grumkins had stolen her real sister. But Mother had only laughed and said no, Arya was her daughter and Sansa’s trueborn sister, blood of her blood.  (AGOT, Sansa I)

A minor thing, but Sansa begin the only redhaired one is a little...bad, I don't know how to explain it, but I hated it. Not Anti-Sansa.

[esther-dot]

Any thoughts on Sansa saying she wants the Great Sept burned? Is she a witch?

Dontos nodded. "He made a great pyre of the trees as an offering to his new god. The red priestess made him do it. They say she rules him now, body and soul. He's vowed to burn the Great Sept of Baelor too, if he takes the city." "Let him." When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she'd thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. "I want it burned." "Hush, child, the gods will hear you." "Why should they? They never hear my prayers." (ACOK, Sansa IV)

No, I don't think she's a witch, but there is something to her wishes coming true:

I hope he falls and shames himself, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him. When Joffrey proclaimed her father's death, it had been Janos Slynt who seized Lord Eddard's severed head by the hair and raised it on high for king and crowd to behold, while Sansa wept and screamed. later -> Morros dropped his lance, fought for balance, and lost. One foot caught in a stirrup as he fell, and the runaway charger dragged the youth to the end of the lists, head bouncing against the ground. Joff hooted derision. Sansa was appalled, wondering if the gods had heard her vengeful prayer. But when they disentangled Morros Slynt from his horse, they found him bloodied but alive. "Tommen, we picked the wrong foe for you," the king told his brother. "The straw knight jousts better than that one." (ACOK, Sansa I)

Now, he didn't die, but I still think that's the beginning of a fun little pattern.

Across the city, thousands had jammed into the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's Hill, and they would be singing too, their voices swelling out over the city, across the river, and up into the sky. Surely the gods must hear us, she thought. [...] ...toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him. later -> Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears. Gentle Mother, font of mercy, [...] She had forgotten the other verses. When her voice trailed off, she feared he might kill her, but after a moment the Hound took the blade from her throat, never speaking. Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps. later -> "It's done! Done! Done! The city is saved. (ACOK, Sansa VII)

Twofer! The people are saved and the Hound's fury/assault ends in him weeping.

Not sure if we should count this one, she did want to kill Joffrey back in AGOT and she thinks about praying for Margaery's protection from him, but I can't remember a specific wish in ASOS:

Sansa followed unresisting. I could never abide the weeping of women, Joff once said, but his mother was the only woman weeping now. In Old Nan's stories the grumkins crafted magic things that could make a wish come true. Did I wish him dead? (ASOS, Sansa V)

Martin is even playing this game in TWOW!

This time her eyes met Harry's. She smiled just for him, and said a silent prayer to the Maiden. Please, he doesn't need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now. later -> “I hope you joust better than you talk.” For a moment he looked shocked. But as the song was ending, he burst into a laugh. “No one told me you were clever.” He has good teeth, she thought, straight and white. And when he smiles, he has the nicest dimples. She ran one finger down his cheek. “Should we ever wed, you’ll have to send Saffron back to her father. I’ll be all the spice you’ll want.” He grinned. “I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?” (TWOW, Alayne I)

The guy is charmed. Oops, I almost forgot the best example:

Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. "Life is not a song, sweetling," he'd told her. "You may learn that one day to your sorrow." In life, the monsters win, she told herself, and now it was the Hound's voice she heard, a cold rasp, metal on stone. "Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants." (AGOT, Sansa VI) later -> much later -> much much later -> Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at him. "Please, my lord. Mercy. I'll … I'll go, I will, I …" No, thought Jon. You closed that door. Longclaw descended. (ADWD, Jon II)

I understand that politically, it would be a mess for Cersie to blow it up a la the show, and she'd lose all support blah blah blah, but I think the Sept will burn. Maybe that's later during Dany's great kaboomb of KL, but I'd kinda hate it if it was burned as part of everything and didn't get singular focus. Martin so frequently references Ned's death on the steps of the Sept we have this feeling of it being a place of horror and great injustice, and I'd like it to be a real moment. I would find it rewarding if it was Cersei, because she’d unwittingly be carrying out a wish of Sansa’s, a form of justice for the Starks. Also, we have that whole scene of her being enraptured by the tower of the hand burning, she has her own trauma tied to the Sept now, and in her scene of shame, she sees Ned and Sansa, so it’s all very present even as late as ADWD. And we know Martin is prepping another wish coming true in TWOW:

👀👀👀 Regardless of when/how, I do think Sansa will get her wish regarding the Sept and Harry (although I’m sure that one will upset her, she’s very soft-hearted!)

Again, not because she's a witch, because of the author's interest in justice and also, part of his series long project of unwinding simplistic beliefs and notions to replace them with a much more complex truth. Not to say people are dumb to believe in the first place, but more of an examination of faith and how prayers being answered can be the mystical explanation for a something that someone does for us, or we might even do for ourselves. As in, it was Sansa's longstanding kindness to the Hound, the relationship she built with him as well as her treatment of him in the moment that saved her from him.

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Tyrion II

Benjen Stark emerged from the shelter he shared with his nephew. “There you are. Jon, damn it, don’t go off like that by yourself. I thought the Others had gotten you.”

“It was the grumkins,” Tyrion told him, laughing. Jon Snow smiled.

Stark shot a baffled look at Yoren. The old man grunted, shrugged, and went back to his bloody work.

[silverflameataraxia]

"Most times," Jon answered in a flat voice.  "But tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard among them."

AGoT, Jon I

Nymeria was waiting for her in the guardroom at the base of the stairs. She bounded to her feet as soon as she caught sight of Arya. Arya grinned. The wolf pup loved her, even if no one else did. They went everywhere together, and Nymeria slept in her room, at the foot of her bed. If Mother had not forbidden it, Arya would gladly  have taken the wolf with her to needlework.  Let Septa Mordane complain about her stitches then.

"A shade more fun than needlework," Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair.  Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her.

AGoT, Arya I

Alone and humiliated, Sansa took the long way back to the inn, where she knew Septa Mordane would be waiting. Lady padded quietly by her side. She was almost in tears. All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty,  the way they were in the songs. Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Marcella? She would have liked a sister like that.

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their Lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered. Once, when she was littler, Sansa had even asked Mother if perhaps there hadn't been some mistake. Perhaps the grumkins had stolen her real sister. But Mother had only laughed and said no, Arya was her daughter and Sansa's trueborn sister, blood of their blood. Sansa could not think why Mother would want to lie about it, so she supposed it had to be true.

AGoT, Sansa I

Jon and Arya have always felt out of place in life, but they've always found their home with each other.

[rohanneofcoldmoat]

I've been thinking about Tyrion and his connections to the next Battle for the Dawn/Second Long Night, and there's just so much there. Tyrion effectively begins his story by heading to the Wall, it's his stated intention to do so in his first chapter. When he arrives there he befriends key players Jon Snow and Jeor Mormont and has firsthand experience with the primal, supernatural fear generated by the Others and the dangers lurking beyond the Wall.

As he stood there and looked at all that darkness with no fires burning anywhere, with the wind blowing and the cold like a spear in his guts, Tyrion Lannister felt as though he could almost believe the talk of the Others, the enemy in the night. His jokes of grumkins and snarks no longer seemed quite so droll.

Jeor later says that House Lannister has never been a friend to the Night's Watch, but Tyrion's experience there in AGOT results in him breaking that mold a bit. The issue of the Wall is raised again when Tyrion is acting hand, and while he maintains a level of distance and disinterest to protect his image, he does offer them help. Throughout the book, he consistently sends the Watch men, usually as a punitive alternative to executing them, from Janos Slynt to the various dungeon occupants he sends with Alliser Thorne to the men who planned on helping the Redwyne twins escape Kingslanding. And in the instance where Thorne demands an audience and calls Tyrion a fool for brushing him off, Tyrion is once again reminded of that feeling of doom and danger he felt while looking out at the lands beyond the wall.

Tyrion remembered a cold night under the stars when he'd stood beside the boy Jon Snow and a great white wolf atop the Wall at the end of the world, gazing out at the trackless dark beyond. He had felt—what?—something, to be sure, a dread that had cut like that frigid northern wind. A wolf had howled off in the night, and the sound had sent a shiver through him.

And the issues of the Wall and the dangers lurking beyond it are raised again, when Tyrion's power and influence are considerably reduced as Master of Coin. He advocates for the Gold Cloaks who deserted their post during the Blackwater to be sent to the watch rather than crippled and left to beg in the city. Tyrion also tries, insistently but unsuccessfully, to convince his father that Janos Slynt is the wrong man for the job of Lord Commander. Clearly, there's a level of personal grievance there, as Tyrion sent Slynt to the Wall to get rid of him. However, the scene is couched with Tyrion expressing genuine concern and regret that Jeor Mormont may be dead, and as a result there's a sense that Tyrion is genuinely advocating for what he believes to be the best interests of the Watch.

Tyrion liked that notion not at all. "The black brothers choose their own commander," he reminded them. "Lord Slynt is new to the Wall. I know, I sent him there. Why should they pick him over a dozen more senior men?" --- Tyrion hitched forward. "Janos Slynt is the wrong man, Father. We'd do better with the commander of the Shadow Tower. Or Eastwatch-by-the-Sea." --- Tyrion's anger flashed. "Lord Janos is a hollow suit of armor who will sell himself to the highest bidder."

So Tyrion has been something of a "friend to the Watch" consistently throughout the series, and it's almost certain he's going to meet up with/became an advisor to Dany. If he continues his efforts advocating on behalf of the Night's Watch in that role, I think he'll find a much more receptive ear.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent.

[aifsaath]

OFCIR scrapped scene

@evabluepark888 @maryonaccross @gwenllian-in-the-abbey

Just so you know we write. I'm just mostly scrapping the scenes, because they don't fit the overall narrative flow. But this is cute and you guys love the grumkin, so, here you go:

The very same chaos that had settled in his chambers was to be found in the children’s room as well. As soon as he was wheeled in by Ser Marston, he was welcomed by a loud bang. Jaehaera, who had always loathed baths, was being chased by a harried nurse, almost nude but for the thinnest shirt covering her knees. From behind the painted screen, Aegon caught a glimpse of Gaemon who was happily splashing in the bathtub. On the bench sat Aeg, prim, proper and wide-eyed at the scene of the wild pursuit, while another nurse combed back his wet hair. Jaehaera crawled under her bed, only her bare little feet peeking out from under the wooden frame.

The nurses stopped in their tracks, bowing deeply. Aegon waved them away with a grin.

“Grumkin, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“No baths!”

“I’m afraid that’s not negotiable, sweetling.” He wheeled himself towards the bed. He couldn’t resist reaching to the dirty little foot, tickling the sole.

“PAPA!” A thud. ��Ouch!”

“Get out, Jae. I need to talk with all three of you.”

A while later, the children were gathered around Gaemon’s bathtub. The little boy giggled at the commotion around. Jaehaera, covered with dust head to toe, pouted, her cheeks puffed, as the nurse wrapped a dressing robe around her narrow shoulders. Aeg shot him a concerned look, the same anxious tick of the brow Jaehaerys used to do.

“Children,” he said, and it surprised him how weary and raspy his own voice sounded. “First, Jae. I know you hate bathing, but since you have kindly wiped the floor with your own body, it has become a necessity. It’s either a proper bath or the nurse rubs you clean with a rough washcloth. It’s your choice.”

Jae frowned, crossing her thin arms over her chest. Neither of her options was her particular favourite but Aegon had long since realized that Jae’s sensitivities did not bother her so much when she was put in charge.

“The bath,” she grumbled. “But I do it myself!”

“Thank you,” he smiled. When he turned to his son’s moon-round face, guilt settled heavily in his gut. Damn Lord Corlys, damn his demands, and damn Mother’s too-reasonable arguments. And yet, he had to pay the lip service to propriety for the lords of the realm to take his promise to Baela seriously. It mattered not that the young woman adored Gaemon; He was Aegon’s bastard, and Aegon wouldn’t put it past Cregan Stark to spin the boy’s existence as an affront to the peace pact.

“Now, Gaemon. Sweet boy, I know how much you want to attend the wedding.” He paused. There was no way to break the news gently. “But today… You need to stay here in the nursery.”

“Papa?” His eyes grew huge, and Aegon noticed the tell-tale wobble in his pointy chin. The child started to sob. Aegon sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to his reddening cheeks.

“I know, I know.”

“That’s not fair!” Jae yelled. “I want to stay too!”

Aegon couldn’t help himself but chuckle at the absurdity of the argument. One wanted to go, another wished to stay, and none got what they asked for. Poor young Aeg cast nervous looks between them, unsure how to proceed.

“Imps, none of it is fair. I know. But remember how I told you about certain rules about bastards and silly adults who jump to conclusions?” When they nodded, he kissed them both on their noses. “You’re both smart. I am sorry I have to ask this of you, but I must.”

[leupagus]

A Gale of Wolves, Chapter 9: Tyrion

"What about House Stark?" Daenerys asked. "This second wife whose victory in the North you're so willing to bet on."

An excellent question. "Sansa won't oppose you," Tyrion said, "but she won't back you. Not at first. She won't be able to; even if she beats the Boltons—"

"Which you've wagered she will."

"—which I would wager, had I anything more than these somewhat threadbare garments to my name," he agreed. "Retaking Winterfell won't be enough; Sansa will then have to hold it, and that might require a different bet altogether. My sister Cersei will send the Lannister forces to bring Sansa back to King's Landing with all due haste. Alive or in pieces, though preferably both. Then there are the Greyjoys, who still hold a fair number of castles and keeps on the western coast along the Bay of Ice. Balon still thinks he can be King of the Iron Islands and the King in the North."

"Isn't that what Robb Stark called himself?" she asked, leaning her elbow on the table and putting her chin on her hand. She was young — about the same age as Jaime and Cersei had been at the start of the Rebellion — but something in her gaze reminded him of this library: vast stores of knowledge, being neatly catalogued and put away for future reference. "The King in the North. Will your Sansa Stark take the same title?"

Sansa Stark was not (and never truly had been) his, but he suspected Daenerys's label was an ironical one. "I don't know," he answered, "but she'll want as much independence for her people as possible. King's Landing hasn't dealt with the North kindly — not even during Robert's reign, and certainly not during your father's."

It was heartening to see her dip her head in acknowledgement at that. Tyrion thanked whatever gods might be listening for Barristan Selmy, who would have told her the truth about Aerys's brutal murder of Sansa's grandfather and uncle: the fire that had burned up the whole of the Seven Kingdoms before Daenerys was ever born.

"It seems she'll have quite enough on her hands for the present moment," Daenerys observed, "without bending the knee to a new queen."

"Give her a year and she'll have the North sorted," he promised, "but now? Enemies to the south, enemies to the west — she's too surrounded to do you much good."

Daenerys looked thoughtful. "Enemies to the north as well, from what I understand."

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Yes, the fearsome wildlings. Along with White Walkers and giants and mammoths and snarks and grumkins."

"Snarks and grumkins?" she asked, puzzled.

"Fairy stories, Your Grace. Ones the Night's Watch often swear they've seen just north of the Wall, and will bravely dispatch if only we send them more money and men and supplies." He felt a momentary pang of guilt in saying it; Jon Snow at least had been a good lad, and disinclined to indulge in the same hyperbole as his brothers in black. But he was surely dead by now.